Clean Slate
by SaltwaterPearl
Summary: Just before mid-night a young man with no past is discovered in a West-Country village. Post-war. Will contain slash. EWE. H/D. Dissociative Fugue.
1. Prologue

**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

Prologue

23rd December 1998

It was a cold, crisp night. The kind that only comes in mid-winter, leavng a clean, cleansed feeling in the air. Although no snow had fallen, Lou pulled her coat tighter around her and tried to snuggle down into it's warm depths. It didn't work. She had been sitting with her friends right in front of the pubs inglenook fireplace, with it's warm and homely flames, until just moments before, and her coat couldn't take up the shortfall. She stamped her feet impatiently until the door of 'The Castle' swung open again, emitting her best friend.

"What took you so long?" Lou demanded as she shivered.

"Had to slash," Julian shrugged. "Sorry."

Julian had been her best friend for six years. The day they met he'd been short and weedy with a long pointy face. His mousy brown hair had been obviously home-cut with odd, choppy lines. Nothing much had changed.

"Well, are we going or are you enjoying the fresh air?" Julian asked with a quirk of his lips.

"Did you know Jules," Lou began conversationally and not moving an inch. "That human beings are seventy percent water? You've kept me waiting all this time and I believe half that water has frozen. I find myself utterly unable to move."

"God, you're such a drama queen," Julian said humorously. He grabbed Lou's arm and pulled her until she started walking on her own. They made their way up the short high street towards the site of a old Saxon hill fort. It had fallen many years since, but ruins stood and from the top you could see across the Blackmore Vale and beyond.

Lou gave the sky a speculating look as they walked. "Do you think it'll snow tonight?"

"Nah," Julian answered. "It's too cold. There'll be a thick frost though.

"You got a lesson tomorrow?"

Lou gave Julian a scathing look. "It's Christmas Eve tomorrow. My instructor is doing her Christmas shopping, as am I." She paused for effect, "With you."

"Shit! I'd forgotten about that.

"Hang on, if tomorrows Christmas eve then I don't have any work." Julian did a nerdy dance of triumph in the middle of the street.

"You're utterly hopeless," Lou teased as she bumped his shoulder. "Who, on earth, forgets when Christmas Eve. It wouldn't surprise me…" She trailed off as it became obvious Julian was no longer listening to her and his attention had been caught by something else.

She followed his gaze to the castle moat which still followed through the town. There by the war memorial was a young man who seemed to be wearing a dress.

"Who is that?" Lou whispered.

"I've no idea." This was quite shocking. Castermill was a small town and she'd lived there all her life. Julian hadn't lived there nearly as long but worked in the local garage. Between them they knew everybody at least by sight. To find a stranger in their midst was more than a little unusual.

Curiosity pipped they approached the moat. The man had his back towards them but they could see he was shorter than most, though not as short as Julian. His hair was black and wild and the long black clothing he wore reminded Lou of the robes the vicar wore on Sundays. As they got closer they could see he was shivering violently. Lou didn't know how she could tell, may-be it was in his posture, but the confusion and loneliness coming from him was almost palpable.

She left Julian's side and approached the dark man, ignoring his hiss of "Lou". She knew he was following her by the sound of his footsteps.

"Excuse me," She said when reasonably close to this stranger. "Are you okay?"

He turned towards her quickly, as if startled, and in the soft light of the street lamps she took in his appearance. From the almost religious robes, small mouth and button nose, to the scar on his forehead that looked surprisingly like a lightning bolt, and his vivid green eyes that were currently brimming with panic.

"Help me," he pleaded in an voice devoid of accent. "I don't know who I am."


	2. Chapter One

**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

Chapter One.

15th June 1999

Samantha Scofield smiled. Her mother was cooking up a storm in the kitchen and telling her all the gossip she'dmissed since Christmas. It was good to be home. Not that she didn't love attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the past three years had been so difficult it was always a relief to be back among family.

She hadn't even been able to return to Hogwarts for her forth year, and instead she and her family had gone on a 'World Tour', anything to get out of the country and away from a war she couldn't legally fight in. Anything to keep her wand. As a muggle-born that should have been the worst year of her life, but it wasn't. Samantha felt uncomfortably guilty for gallivanting around foreign parts, enjoying time with her family, while her friends were living through hell. They didn't hold it against her, but she felt her distance from them as they spoke of that time in hollow, haunted tones.

Then the war was over. Harry Potter defeated Voldemort as everyone had prayed he would. Everyone returned to Hogwarts, and everyone needed to repeat, so they did. It should have been a time of joyous celebration. The dark, poisonous cloud that had hung over them all for so long had cleared after all. Instead they spent the year trying to deal with the psychological damage most had experienced, trying not to notice those who were no longer there, and trying to pretend that random crying was part of their everyday existence before.

That was how people measured there lives now; into before and after.

The pure-bloods had their own problems. Hogwarts hadn't been the castle they knew and loved under Dumbledore during that hellish year. The stories from those who lived through it, whispered in the evenings like ghost stories round a campfire, were horrifying. It was obvious that Headmaster Snape had done his best to protect them, hindsight giving clearer vision as it always does, but not enough to leave Hogwarts untainted for them.

Even those whose parents had supported Voldemort were changed. Some, such as Malfoy, seemed to jump at their own shadows. Others were recoiling from the loss of relatives and friends, either to Azkaban or death. That was the only thing that linked everyone, students and teachers alike. Everyone had lost someone be they friend or family, sometimes both. When this grief poured over the lines of war were forgotten and comfort was given regardless.

There were no children left in Hogwarts, Samantha concluded.

"He just appeared out of no-where," Mrs Scofield was saying. "Has no idea where he came from, poor dear. Some sort of amnesia they say. They've searched the missing persons list and no-ones reported him. They'd be able to find him easily, he's got such distinctive scars.

"They wanted to put him in the national papers but he refused. Tries to avoid the any attention on him. I hear he was upset by appearing in the local papers. He's living with the Greens now."

Samantha was completely confused. "Who mum?"

"The boy I wrote about in my letters Sammy, don't you read them?"

Truth was Samantha barely scanned them. She'd been so overwhelmed by the events in her absence that local gossip had seemed too normal to take note of. "Don't call me Sammy, and of coarse I read your letters mum. It's just some info slips my mind occasionally."

"Well," her mum continued as she settled a plate before Samantha. "He's an untraceable boy who can't remember anything before standing in front of the war memorial just days Christmas. Lou Green found him, and he lives with her now, looks after her while her dad's away. I never liked the idea of her being there on her own."

Samantha chewed her dinner thoughtfully. After swallowing she waved her fork around expressively. "Isn't that, you know, a bit weird? Who just forgets their whole past? Did he get hit on the head, or what?"

Mrs Scofield shook her head. "Apparently it's a recognised psychological state, although very, very rare. Most people get their memories back slowly, but Nick doesn't have any familiar circumstances to help him. His past is just a blank." Her face filled with motherly concern. "It must be so disconcerting for him."

"But he's with the Greens, right?" Samantha said trying to point out the silver lining. "And they're great."

Mrs Scofield made a non-committal noise. "He has bonded well with Louise, and has been accepted into her friendship group. Even Julian seems to have taken a shine to him, and he's been so protective of her since Emma and Jean's passing."

Samantha's breath caught. Emma had been her best-friend while she was in primary school, they had still hung out occasionally during the summer, until she had been killed by giants nearly three years ago. A victim in a war she had never even known about. Her mother refused to say murdered in case she slipped in public, after all as far as the village knew it was a tragic accident in a freak gale.

"But," Mrs Scofield continued unaware of her daughters thoughts. "they can't help him find out who he was. How can he ever understand what he is, without knowing what he was?"

"Sometimes mum," Samantha said remembering the panic attacks, fears and overwhelming grief of the previous year. "I think that forgetting is the best thing."

* * *

"Hey Sammy, how's that posh school of yours?"

Samantha squinted up at the person who had so rudely interrupted her dosing. She was laying flat on her back in the grass, surrounded by the ruins of the Saxon hill fort. Lou Green towered over her, and Samantha took the opportunity to study her. The scars she'd received during the giant attack were brutally visible. Her right arm was tucked into her side where nerve damage had rendered it almost useless, and scars criss-crossed her face as if she were a patchwork doll. Samantha knew those scars covered most of her upper body, that she'd had to have extensive reconstructive surgery in hospital were chucks were literally ripped out of her. Samantha didn't know how the doctors had attributed the damage to a gale. She didn't ask.

"My name, as I remember telling you frequently Lou," Samantha said peevishly as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. "Is Samantha or Sam. Not, under punishment of death, Sammy."

Lou flopped onto the grass next to her. "I've known you since you were four years old, wild horses couldn't stop me calling you Sammy. You don't have a chance.

"When did you get back?"

"Couple days ago. Mum's been taking me visiting the family. This is my first day of freedom."

"Could be worse. I've still got a week and a half of collage and everyone's all geared up for summer so it's a complete waste of time. Not that anyone ever listens to me," she said with a small smile. "For some reason the tutors are convinced they know best.

"You must of just completed your G.C.S.E.'s. How'd they go?"

Of coarse Lou would know that, Emma would have sat them this summer. She offered a vague reply. "Umm, it's hard to tell until they come out isn't it? I'm pretty sure I passed most, everything except science."

"Who needs science," Lou commiserated. "Gravity's not going to stop working because you don't understand how it does. You might surprise yourself anyway, it's multiple choice. Isn't it?"

"Different exam board," Samantha said flatly hating the skills she'd acquired in lying. "We had to answer questions without prompting."

Lou winced sympathetically. "Ouch, that's harsh."

Wanting to divert attention away from her schooling Samantha asked, "How about you. What A-levels did you decide on in the end?"

"Mathematics, History and English Language. God knows why, I've no idea what I'm going to do with them."

"They're hardly useless subjects Lou," Samantha pointed out. "Not like that girl who wanted to take a degree in Klingon. Now that is useless."

Lou bounced excitedly as if she couldn't physically restrain her enthusiasm. "I remember that, it was on the news years ago. I wonder if she was able to in the end, I'd love to take my degree in Klingon."

Samantha gave her a pointed look. "You were kicked out of French and only scrapped a German G.C.S.E. out of pure luck."

"Details," Lou declared waving her hand dismissively.

Samantha shook her head in amusement and allowed herself to fall back onto the grass.

"What are you planning on doing with the rest of your life?" Lou asked and Samantha felt her lie down next to her.

"Good question. I've no idea.

"Tell me about this mysterious stranger who's moved in with you."

Lou let out a bark of shocked laughter. "You make in sound so sordid. He needed a place to live, we had room, he lives there. Like a lodger I suppose, which is a long and noble tradition in England. That's all there is to it."

"Mum said you'd 'bonded well' with him," Samantha said slyly.

"No offence Sammy, but your mum is the biggest gossip in town."

Samantha turned towards Lou and propped her head up on her hand. "So you're telling me you've had a bloke in your house, alone for most of the time I might add, and nothing's happened."

"Even if I was his type, and I'm not I might add. Even if I was his type it wouldn't be right." Lou chewed her lip thoughtfully. "He's kinda vulnerable. I mean he's been through such a hard time that his mind, in an act of self preservation, has wiped it's self clean. Dissociative Fugue. That's the medical term anyway. And I'm not surprised, he has these awful scars. There's one on his hand that's legible, for crying out loud! Horrible!

"Who would do that?!"

" Oh, I can think of a few people," Samantha muttered darkly. The back of her left hand seemed to tingle slightly as she was transported back to an ugly detention in second year.

A heavy silence stretched between for a little while, each caught in their own thoughts, until Lou tried to lighten the mood. "Besides, even if, by some miracle, I started winning beauty contests. I don't have the right equipment for Nick's taste."

"Ah, that would be a hitch." Samantha giggled slightly as she realised Lou's implication, grateful to be pulled away from more unappealing thoughts.

Lou stood up. "I've got to go. Dad's off again today and I need to be there to say goodbye. You busy tonight?"

"Nothing planned."

"Then come to The Castle for eight. There's a group of us meeting up and we have to show you how the other half live. Don't want you going all hoity-toity on us, do we?"

Samantha smiled, not even bothering to open her eyes. "I'll be there."

* * *

The Castle was what could be called a traditional English pub. The largest building in the town centre it had been a coaching inn in centuries past. It was hard to imagine what it's Elizabethan patrons would have made of it now. In a somewhat debatable act of taste the current owner had painted it yellow, bright sunshine, oh my god that's the largest banana I've ever seen, yellow. Samantha's mum still hadn't stopped tutting as she walked past.

Samantha pushed open the heavy oak door to find a more serene, cosy interior. Soft lightning and dark stained furniture gave it a traditional feel with it's horse-shoe bar and original fireplace. Samantha felt slightly out of place. This was the first time she'd ventured in here on her own and it felt as though the eyes of everyone of the regulars was on her, demanding her business in their sanctuary.

"Oi, Sammy! Over here!"

Lou's voice rang through the quiet bar and Samantha felt both embarrassment and relief. She hurried over to the small table just to the right of the fireplace that had a small group of teenagers around it. Lou was sat in the padded settle with Julian next to her and opposite were Richard Geeson and Bethany Fry. Samantha stole the only empty chair and shrugged off her coat.

"You remember everyone here, don't you?" Lou smiled, and when Samantha nodded Lou turned to the others at the table. "Everyone, I'm sure you remember Samantha Scofield, lost to the horrors of public education."

Everyone greeted her warmly and Samantha felt more content than she had in months. It was all so normal. Jules rose and asked her what she'd like to drink.

"A Coke please," Samantha replied going for the money in her purse.

"Don't worry about that. It'll be your round soon enough. Diet or fat?"

Samantha grinned, "Fat please."

"No probs."

"Where's Nick tonight anyway?" Bethany asked as Julian left for the bar.

"Finishing off his essay on 'To Kill A Mocking Bird' for tomorrow. He's left to the last minute. Again. I've had to lend him my old notes to help him. He'll turn up in a hour or two, I'm sure."

"You're a soft touch," Bethany said with a smile. "All he has to do is flash his pretty eyes at you, and you hand over all your notes."

"Not true!" Lou protested and her friends grinned.

"Yes it is," Richard said.. "I won't be surprised if when he turns up tonight it'll be with his essay in hand so you can check it for mistakes. You should just write it for him, save the paper. Did Nick even have to read the book?"

Lou threw a beer mat at Richards head. "Jerk."

"What did he do?" Julian asked as he placed Samantha's drink in front of her and sat down next to Lou again.

"What makes you think I did anything? Richard asked indignantly. "I was sat here, peacefully minding my own business, when I was viciously assaulted by this missile." Richard held up the offending beer mat as if it was a piece of evidence in court. "I was lucky not to be seriously injured in this atrocious and inhumane attack."

The rest of the table was trying to hold straight faces by the time Richard finished triumphantly. "You know," Samantha mused aloud. "Exaggeration is the tool of the devil."

"Exaggeration!" Bethany exclaimed. "That was downright falsehood."

The friendly banter continued to flow and Samantha thought that have face would have cracked through the sheer amount of smiling she was currently doing. This was the way normal teenagers lived. This is what she should have been doing with her friends. She felt a surge of grief for the wonderfully carefree days that had long gone and then stopped that train of thought. She wouldn't let the problems of her world ruin tonight.

* * *

It was nearing quarter-past ten when the enigmatic Nick showed up. Samantha felt a presence behind her just as Lou gave her greeting. After the others had given their greetings Lou began the introductions.

"Nick, this is an old friend of my sisters, Samantha Scofield."

Samantha turned her head to look at the guy everyone was talking about. Her mouth dropped open in shock. There could be no mistake. The lightning bolt scar just visible beneath the mop of messy black hair, oval green eyes behind his glasses.

"Sammy, this is…" Lou said continuing her introduction.

"Harry Potter," Samantha interrupted with out thinking, shock addling her common sense.

Harry Potter had been missing for nearly six months. No-one, except his closest companions, knew what had happened. And even they seemed worried beyond belief. There had been a high profile search in the Wizarding world. Fears for the mental state of their saviour had grown with every day that Harry had spent away. Samantha suddenly realised her mum had been writing to her about Harry all this time. How many clues had she missed? When this got out she was going to be a pariah.

Nick's eyes widened. He half whispered, "What did you say?"

What could she say? She was sat in a muggle pub with a man who had destroyed Voldemort, and then forgotten it. Samantha suddenly realised she shouldn't have said his name at all. She stood quickly, grabbed her coat and, instead of answering said, "I have to go. Right now. Sorry."

Her exit was impeded by a strong hand around her upper arm. She struggled against it slightly, but realising she had little chance of freeing herself without causing a scene she stopped, and turned to her captor. Nick was studying her intensely. Samantha shivered at the desperate hope written so plainly across his face. The others were watching her now, shocked at the turn of events and unsure what to do next.

"Do you know who I am?" Nick asked softly, his voice a strange contrast to the grip on her arm.

Samantha didn't want to lie to him, despite every piece of advice her brain was screaming at her. She looked at the floor and answered, "I can't be sure, I don't know you personally, but I think so. Yes."

He let go of her arm. Samantha wrapped her arms around herself, unsure of herself. She looked up to find Nick staring at her, pale and shaky. Julian and Lou flanked him now, seemingly ready to steady him if his legs gave out.

It took a long while before Nick was able to say anything and Samantha felt her unease growing and growing until she was sure it would overwhelm her. After what felt like hours Nick croaked, "My name? What is my name?"

"Harry Potter," Samantha replied. "Your name is Harry Potter and you'll be nineteen years old next month."

"How do you know?" That wasn't Nick, but Lou instead. Samantha looked at her and noticed she had a hand in the small of Nick's back.

"Harry Potter attended the same school as me." Samantha spoke to Nick again, "I can't be sure you're him, I don't want to raise your hopes. I mean you look like him but, Harry Potter's three years older than me, and in a different house. It's not like I talked with him everyday."

"Hang on," said Richard, startling Samantha as she had forgotten him and Bethany entirely. "If he turns nineteen in the next month then he would have finished his A-levels and left. If you don't know him, how did you know he was missing?"

Samantha almost laughed. Even if Harry had left Hogwarts before disappearing she would have known. "Harry and his friends took a year off last year. They travelled I believe, and came back this year." Once again she addressed Nick. "They're very worried. Please let me go contact them. They should be here, not me. I don't know anything."

"Worried, are they?" Nick spat, causing Samantha to step back from his sudden anger. "So very worried that they haven't even reported me to the police? So worried that, although we've contacted every missing person organisation in the country, no one meeting my description has people looking for them? Some friends."

"No." Samantha said desperately. "No, it's not like that. They care, we all do. They wouldn't have thought to report it to the police simply because…" She trailed off. What could she say, here in the middle of a crowded pub, surrounded my muggles who were eves-dropping on their conversation none to subtlety.

She couldn't do this. This wasn't her job. A wave of unreasonable anger crashed over her that she had been put in this position. That no-one, not even his muggle-born best friend, had thought to report His disappearance to the police. Samantha didn't know how to rescue this. She didn't know how to make it right.

"What's going on?" A deep booming voice shouted from the bar. "You lot know I'll have no trouble here. You want to have a show of teenage dramatics, take it outside. I'm not a youth-club."

The eyes of the group went to the think-set, balding landlord and Samantha made good her escape. She could hear their apologies, and then their startled gasps as they realised she was gone just as the door closed behind her. She knew they would follow. After all Harry Potter was not known for letting things go. Samantha thought they should probably all be grateful for that.

As soon as she got out into the fresh air she whirled round the corner and ducked into a nearly overgrown alley. She had used it with Emma when they were children and there was only a small chance Lou would think of it now, but they were more likely to take the pavements. And they would go straight to her house, Samantha realised grimly.

She slowed her pace and thought. Even if she sent What, her faithful long-eared owl, it would be several hours before she received a reply. The best thing would be to find a floo. As a muggle-born her house wasn't connected to the floo-network, and there were no other witches in Castermill.

Samantha automatically touched the wand she hand hidden underneath her shirt, taking comfort in it's presence. At that same moment the answer came to her. The Knight Bus. Continuing forward to the edge of the alley she stuck her wand out.

* * *

Author's note's: This is an idea I've been playing with for a little while, but I'm not sure whether to continue or not. Please let me know your opinion. I have half of the next chapter written just in case.

I've been unable to find a beta reader so please feel free to point out mistakes, and if you want to volunteer to beta for me I'd be very grateful.

Hope you enjoyed, Pearl.


	3. Chapter Two

Author's notes: Here's Chapter Two, which has kindly been Beta'd by the wonderful Sderai. Thank-you very much for your help. A link to her own work can be found in my favourite authors, and in my profile when I figure out how to put in a hyper link.

Thanks also to dreamerswaking and gorgeousbrowneyesslash for their reviews. I really appreciated them.

I'm sorry to anyone who tried to leave an anonymous review last time and wasn't able to. I have corrected that.

* * *

**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

Chapter Two.

16th June 1999

A loud bang woke her. Several more followed rapidly on its tail. The shocked noise from the other bed in the room told her it had woken Ginny too.

Hermione glanced at her watch, twelve-thirteen. Brilliant. She'd been asleep barely half an hour and they; Ron, Ginny and herself, had a long day before them. She dragged herself out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown, barely noticing that Ginny was doing the same thing across from her.

On the landing she could hear Ron coming down the stairs from his attic bedroom. Mrs Weasley was already half-way down the staircase towards her, Mr Weasley close behind. The banging continued as she let her friends parents pass her before joining Ron who was following in their wake.

Ahead of her Mrs Weasley spelled the lights on as she entered the kitchen. As soon as they came on the banging stopped. Mr and Mrs Weasley approached the door almost cautiously, both holding their wands ready.

"Who's there?" Mr Weasley called out furtively.

"Please, you don't know me," a young female voice called back. "My name is Samantha Scofield and I know where Harry Potter is."

A shocked silence fell over the kitchen and time seemed to stop. Could this be it? After nearly six months, could they find him?

Hermione wanted to be hopeful, to get excited. But months of false leads had made her cynical. Why would this be any different than the dozen false leads they'd followed yesterday?

A little logical voice in the back of her mind said the others had been sent by owl, mainly anonymously. No-one had ever tried to break down the back door in the middle of the night. Unwillingly, a tiny seed of hope germinated. .

The silence was broken by the visitor calling through the door again. "Can you let me in please? I can here things scurrying round out here and I'm too young to use my wand…"

Mrs Weasley came to herself very quickly. Wrenching open the door she ushered in a plain girl with dark brown hair who looked at them all nervously. Mrs Weasley guided her over to the table and pushed her down into a chair.

"Oh you poor dear, you're freezing. Fancy coming out in the middle of the night without wearing a coat. I'll make you a hot chocolate, I'm sure everyone else will appreciate one too."

As she bustled around, Mr Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Hermione took their seats at the old pine farmhouse table. Each one of them looked expectantly at the young girl who had literally blown in the door, while she kept sending apprehensive glances through the window.

"What's out there anyway? I could here something in the bushes, and I thought it was mice or something, but then they started pulling at my jean leg…"

"Our garden is home to some rather cheeky gnomes I'm afraid," said Mr Weasley as he polished his glasses. "They are quite impossible at times."

"Oh," Samantha muttered, embarrassment colouring her cheeks. "Now I feel really daft for pounding on the door so hard."

Mrs Weasley settled a mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of Samantha and gradually passed others around the table. She then settled herself and everyone drank from their cups, an awkward silence settling over them.

Hermione wanted to ask questions, but she also wanted to keep this tiny shoot of hope for a little while longer, before it was crushed mercilessly again. A sideways glance at Ron showed that he was barely keeping a rein on his impatience. She knew that it was only believing that Harry was out there somewhere, happy and whole, that kept him from being eaten alive by guilt.

Ron had been the last to speak to Harry. Well, argue would be more accurate. He'd found him with Draco Malfoy and had exploded, taking the betrayal of his sister as his own. It had been a flash in the pan. Within the hour he had cooled down, ready to apologise, but by then, Harry was gone.

Ginny had been very different. She'd taken the news of Harry's affair with Malfoy surprisingly well. In fact she'd thanked Malfoy for taking care of Harry when he wouldn't allow anyone else, and kissed him on the cheek. Oh she'd cried in private of course, even raged about the injustice to Hermione, but she loved Harry enough to let him go.

Hermione hadn't yet processed that Harry had been in a physical relationship, if nothing else, with Malfoy. She'd taken the statement as fact and filed it away, focusing more on the fact that Harry was missing. She could deal with everything else as soon as she knew he was safe and sound.

Predictably Ron was the first to break the silence, "Where is he?"

"Castermill, on the Somerset Dorset border. He's living with a friend of mine."

The atmosphere became frigid. "With your friend," Ginny bit out. "WITH YOUR FRIEND, AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO LET US KNOW BEFORE NOW? DID YOU THINK IT FUNNY TO WATCH US WORRY?" By the time she was finished she was standing, glaring at their mid-night visitor.

Samantha physically recoiled from the attack before squaring her jaw and standing up to confront Ginny.

"How dare you!" she hissed furiously. "You don't even know me and you immediately make baseless accusations. For your information I only found out today.

"And even if I'd known for months you have no right to judge me. Your friend is convinced he has no one who cares about him because no-one reported him missing. If you had thought to contact the police none of this would be an issue."

Once again a tense silence descended as Ginny and Samantha glared at each other across the table. Hermione barely noticed as she ran though Samantha's statement in her head. Why would Harry expect them to involve the muggle authorities? He was a wizard after all If he wanted to know how desperately they were searching for him why didn't he get a copy of the prophet? It just didn't add up…

"Why would Harry expect us to use the muggle please-men?" asked Mr Weasley.

Samantha sighed and slumped back down into her chair. "He doesn't know who he is. Nick, that's the name he's been going by, has no memories before the 23rd of December 1998..."

"Two days after he went missing," Hermione interrupted.

"When he found himself standing in front of Castermill's war memorial. Lou and Julian found him. He lives with Lou now."

"Can you tell us everything, from the beginning please dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, seeming to feel they could go on all night otherwise, and Samantha complied.

Hermione could barely believe that someone could have been receiving information about Harry all the time and not realising it. She found herself freely crying when she heard of the events in the pub that night, of the confused anger in her friend. Ginny and Mrs Weasley were in tears as well. Mr Weasley looked slightly horrified and Ron, well Ron looked as if he'd just been hit with a Harry sized bludger. Hermione slipped her hand into his and tried to pass her comfort and support through the small gesture.

"Are you sure it's him?" Hermione choked out, trying to sound calmer than she was.

"Oh yes. He has green eyes, messy black hair and a scar shaped like a lighting bolt on his forehead. Lou also said he had a written scar on the back of his hand, though she didn't tell me what it said."

"I must not tell lies," Ron's haunted, hollow tones intoned before he gasped and nearly lost all composure. "Oh Merlin!"

"And you left him there? Just like that? In a pub full of muggles?" Ginny's voice was soft in its accusations, but they were heard clearly all the same.

"What would you have had me do?" Samantha asked tiredly. "I was in a pub full of muggles, and even if I had dragged him off to a quiet corner it's not like I could offer proof. He's been safe with the muggles for months now, and I've known Lou since I was four years old. I know she'll take care of him.

"So I did the best thing I could think to do, I caught the knight-bus and came straight here. My mother is probably going out of her mind with worry right now."She said staring at the Weasleys clock with a puzzled expression, trying to work out how it told the time.

Then we must get you home," said Mrs Weasley, and she stood up from the table and stated busying herself clearing away the half-drunk hot chocolate. "Ron, Hermione, Ginny go and get dressed. We'll meet down here in ten minutes."

All three of them leapt from their seats, scrapping their chair legs across the flagstone floor. In spite of the tears drying on her face Hermione almost floated upstairs. They were going to see Harry.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later Ron, Hermione and Ginny were set and ready to go. Ron had already thrown up twice and was a worrying shade of green. Hermione stuck to his side like glue, wishing she had a moment to talk to him about it, but not wanting to delay seeing Harry any longer than they had to.

They were now in the kitchen with Samantha while Mr and Mrs Weasley got ready upstairs. Ginny was spreading the things she had gathered that would act as reminders of the wizarding world for Harry, checking if Hermione or Ron had any objections.

Harry's first Hogwarts letter, several wizarding photos of Harry, Ron and Hermione through their time at Hogwarts, a copy of the Daily Prophet from three days after his disappearance, a snitch they using for pick-up Quidditch in the orchard, and a very battered copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. They were small things, not very impressive magically, but unexplainable to muggles. Ginny had chosen well and Hermione told her so.

"Well I didn't want to overwhelm him too much," she said, dismissing the praise.

"Which is why I think it should be just you and Dad who go to see him at first. And before you jump in," she continued, looking pointedly at Ron who had already opened his mouth to speak. "I'll tell you why. Mum would hug him straight away, she wouldn't be able to help herself, and we all know how Harry would react to someone he considers a stranger trying to do that.

"And Ron and I, well, we are both connected to the stuff that made him go. If he were to see us and it all come flooding back at once it could be too much for him."

"So what are you saying?" Ron asked with anger. "That we just stay here and twiddle our thumbs while Hermione and Dad go and see Harry. Merlin's Balls Ginny!"

Ginny gave her brother a look that said he was immensely stupid and spoke slowly in her reply. "No Ronald, Mum can contact Bill, Charlie, Percy and George because there'll be hell to pay tomorrow if they found out we waited to let them know. And we'll go get Malfoy."

"Malfoy?!" Ron said incredulously. "What on earth do you want to go get that great git for?"

"Because," Ginny explained calmly as she gathered Harry's possessions from the table. "He deserves to know we know where Harry is, that he's safe, and what's happened to him. Because whether you want to believe it or not he's been as worried as us. After all he knew better than us what was going on in Harry's head."

As Ron opened his mouth to argue Hermione placed a hand on his arm and interrupted him, "Ginny's right. You know she is. I'll talk to Harry, explain everything, and then he'll be prepared for any memories that you trigger."

"But Malfoy…" Ron tried to start.

"Is the one that was talking to Harry when he felt he couldn't lean on us. He was the one Harry didn't feel he had to be strong for. He became important to Harry, and vice- versa. He deserves to be kept informed.

Hermione turned away, dismissing Ron's further protests by asking Ginny "Could you let Malfoy know that I'll explain everything I can about their history, as well as their more recent companionship. Tell him I promise to stay as impartial as possible."

"Of course," said Ginny as her parents came back into the kitchen.

It took only a few minutes to explain their plan and Ginny and Ron departed for Malfoy manor immediately. Mrs Weasley turned straight to the floo and disappeared to Shell Cottage, leaving only Mr Weasley, Samantha and Hermione.

"There are no witches or wizards living in Castermill apart from me, and I'm not connected to the floo I'm afraid." Samantha said, speaking for the first time since she finished her tale. Letting out an involuntary shudder she continued, "I caught the knight bus to get here. Two hours on that damn thing, it was horrendous. I can't wait to learn to apparate next year."

"It's not much more pleasant I'm afraid," Hermione said wryly.

Samantha looked slightly sick, "But quicker, right?"

"Much quicker," Mr Weasley reassured her.

They left The Burrow to walk to the edge of the apparition wards they'd left in place since the war ended. The light of Mr Weasley and Hermione's wands spread a comforting circle of light around them, warding of the dark, moonless night.

"Do you know where you're going?" Samantha asked suddenly. Mr Weasley raised his eye brows at her, and she rushed to explain. "Not here, obviously, because this is your garden. Do you know how to get to Castermill?"

Mr Weasley sighed sadly. "Yes I do. I expect you remember the giant attack there. I was part of the Ministry's defence. I'll side-along apparate you Samantha. If you take my hand Hermione I'll guide you."

Samantha looked pensive, and Hermione could only assume it was because of the journey ahead of them. "Is this your first time?"

Samantha nodded distractedly.

"Don't worry. It'll be over before you can say Knight Bus."

Mr Weasley took their hands and Hermione turned on the spot as she followedMr Weasley's actions through. The familiar squeezing sensation over took her, quickly releasing her into the middle of a dark outdoor space. The atmosphere hung heavy and as Hermione's eye's adjusted she could see street lamps at the edges, silhouetting spooky shapes surrounding her. It didn't take long to work out they were in a graveyard.

"Okay, the cemetery. Brilliant. As if this night couldn't get any worse."

Hermione personally agreed with Samantha's unease. She only realised now, after four years, how frightening Harry's landing in the Little Hangleton graveyard must have been. She shivered.

"It's the best place to appear without risking notice by the muggles," Mr Weasley explained. "They don't like coming in here at night."

"Well," Samantha replied in even tones as she started quickly towards the street lights. "Neither does this witch."

They walked in silence until they hit the softly lit pavements. The streets were deserted, and pervaded by a sleepy sort of calm. Hermione drank in the atmosphere, the sights. She could see 'The Castle' ahead and smiled at the yellow exterior, and flowering hanging baskets that hung in regular intervals. Harry had been there only hours before. It seemed unreal.

"Um," Samantha began awkwardly, "I'll take you straight to Lou's house, no doubt they're still up, but there's something you should know.

"Lou was out walking her dogs with her mum and sister when the giants attacked. She was the only survivor, and she's fine now, but her appearance can be a little shocking to people who aren't used to it. There are scars all over her face, and her right arm is pretty much useless."

Hermione was shocked, appalled, she always was by the damage the war had inflicted on the muggle world, it was so easy to forget they had been unwittingly involved too.

"It's not that she's hypersensitive about it, she's fine, I really don't think it bothers her any more, but it can be jarring if you meet her unprepared."

"That's terrible," Mr Weasley mumbled inadequately, but unable to find anything else to say.

Samantha continued, "Lou's dad works away a lot, and I know that he went away today so it should only be Lou and Harry in. Though, after the events of tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if Julian is still with them."

"Who's Julian?" Hermione asked as they passed into a very dark passageway.

"He's Lou's best friend. Very protective of her, especially since, you know. And, according to my mum, he's extended that to Harry. He doesn't have much of a temper though, and honestly, he's a bit weedy."

They exited into a well lit muggle street on a hill. The houses were mismatched, as if they'd built one side of the street ten years after the other side, but it was generally well kept with mown lawns and neat flower beds. On the pavement was a chalk hopscotch grid, scuffed and marked where it had been well used throughout the day.

"This is it," Samantha said as she stopped in front of the only house in the street with it's lights still on. It was a pebble-dashed semi with a small front garden and a driveway leading to a garage. Through the living-room curtains they could see vague shadows moving around. Hermione wondered if one of them was Harry.

Samantha lead them up a paved garden path to the white PVC door. She pressed the door-bell, and Hermione thought that she might break apart from the anticipation.

It took a few minutes for the door to open. A few agonisingly tense moments where Hermione imagined the worst possible reception that Harry could give her. It must have shown on her face for Mr Weasley took her hand and squeezed it.

"It'll all work out," he muttered to her before releasing her.

The girl who opened the door was silhouetted it the hall light, but Hermione could see that her right arm was curled into her side. She didn't look at Hermione, or even Mr Weasley, but turned immediately to Samantha.

"I take it you have some sort of explanation. Where do you get off dropping a bomb shell like that and running away? I would have expected better of you Sammy." Her voice was harsh in it's condemnation, and Hermione was immediately grateful that Harry had found this person to look after him.

Samantha raised her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Lou. I really am, but I couldn't explain. So I went and found people who could." She gestured towards Hermione and Mr Weasley. "Lou this is Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's friends, and this is Mr Weasley, the dad of one of his other friends. Harry used to spend the holidays with the Weasleys.

"Mr Weasley, Hermione," she continued turning to them. "This is Lou Green. She found Harry and he lives with her. You can tell her, and Julian, anything. I would trust them with my life," she said significantly.

Hermione spared a glance at Lou who regarded them all suspiciously before Samantha spoke again.

"Well, I'm sure you don't want me getting in the way, so I'll see you around." She gave a half wave towards the door. "Bye Lou."

Hermione caught the girls arm as she passed. "Thank-you," she said trying to pass all her gratitude in those two small words.

"Your welcome," Samantha smiled and went on her way.

Lou ushered Mr Weasley and Hermione into a small square hallway. In the harsh light of the bulb Hermione could see the full evidence of Lou's injuries. She sent another silent thank-you to Samantha for warning them, and tore her eyes away.

There was a staircase directly in front of the door, but all was dark up there so Hermione turned her attention to the only door that led off of the hall. It was a traditional four panel door, painted white, with a brass lever handle. Nothing special but Hermione concentrated on every detail trying to calm herself with it's normality.

"I guess you better come in," Lou said softly before opening that door and leading them into a good sized living room.

And there he was. Sat on a terracotta sofa in jeans and t-shirt, clutching a mug with both hands. His messy black hair was threatening to fall forward into his eyes, and he was just so…Harry.

Hermione felt her eyes well up and a lump formed in her throat. She raised her hand up to her mouth as if she could physically retain the tremendous emotion with in her. Hermione saw the look of fearful apprehension in Harry's face and gave him a watery smile. "Hello Harry."

* * *

Please review and tell me you what you think. What do you like? What do you hate? Let me know. Pearl x


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